


call me friend, but keep me closer

by champagne_for_breakfast



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eddie Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sharing a Bed, Stan Lives, Wet Dream, and there was only one bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 12:43:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champagne_for_breakfast/pseuds/champagne_for_breakfast
Summary: “There’s only one bed.”Richie snaps out of his thoughts about murderous clowns, sewer systems and writing his own material. “What do you mean there’s only one bed?”Eddie looks at him, turning around in the door frame of the only hotel room available in shitty Derry. “What do you think it means, asshole? There’s only one bed.”---aka, the sharing a bed fic that was left out of the movie





	call me friend, but keep me closer

**Author's Note:**

> All is fine and dandy until I start thinking about the Clown Movie again.
> 
> Title from Billie Eilish's 'when the party's over'.

“There’s only one bed.”

Richie snaps out of his thoughts about murderous clowns, sewer systems and writing his own material. “What do you mean there’s only one bed?”

Eddie looks at him, turning around in the door frame of the only hotel room available in shitty Derry. “What do you think it means, asshole? There’s only one bed.”

Ok, granted, the question was stupid. Richie can admit to that one. It’s not his fault that there’s only one hotel in all of Derry - of course nobody wants to come to this stupid town, everyone dies here. But to only have one room available with only one bed in it. That seems like a stupid prank.

And Richie is _this_ close to just begging Beverly to let him sleep on her floor.

There’s no way he’s sharing a bed with Eddie Kaspbrak. Not now, not when they haven’t seen each other in almost twenty year. Not when he’s forcibly reminded of the fact that this is the love of his life. Not when said love of his life is married. To a woman. Who would have thought.

“I can sleep on the floor,” is out of his mouth before Richie can stop himself. _It’s a gift_, he used to say, he never stops talking. That’s why he’s the trashmouth. That’s why he’s a famous stand up comedian. He has literally no filter between his brain and his mouth, it’s really not his fault.

Eddie makes a disgusted face at him, still standing in the doorway and not moving a muscle. Richie has no way of looking into the room with Eddie blocking his view like that. And he’s kind of glad he doesn’t know what the room looks like. Knowing Derry, this probably looks like the worst place they’ve ever been in. And that’s saying a lot, because they’ve been in Neibolt and the sewers. “Do you know how many germs there might be on this carpet? With our luck, you’ll catch your death on that thing.”

Richie rolls his eyes and chuckles at that. “So, you won’t sleep on the floor, then?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Eddie turns around. “We can just share for tonight,” he adds as he starts wandering further into the hotel room.

Richie finally gets a good look of the inside. There’s one double bed pushed with its headboard against the opposite wall, two small bedside tables on either side of it. The carpet is an ugly rust red, clashing with the dark red of the walls. There’s not much else in the room, besides some seemingly broken lamps. Moonlight is shining through the halfway opened curtains, illuminating Eddie standing in the middle of the room, inspecting the bed.

With the whole room looking like an unfurnished, dirty college dorm room, the sight of Eddie in the moonlight is breathtaking. His skin is tinged in a slight blue, the ugly red jacket he’s wearing turning to a lovely shade of purple where the light hits it. Even the frown on his face seems to be softened by the light. Richie, still standing in the doorway, is frozen at the sight before him. _Yup, definitely still in love_, his brain supplies.

He awkwardly clears his throat, before he speaks up again: “You know, you’re super short and you might fit onto that bed. Hell, maybe we could fit two of you on that bed, but I’m all limbs. I don’t even know if I could fit onto that bed all on my own. And you want to share.”

“Fuck you, I’m not sleeping on the floor and I won’t let you try, either,” comes the snarky reply, Eddie not even turning around to look at him. It’s a lot like it used to be back when they were kids. Right after they thought they had defeated the clown the first time.

Even now, they could snap back in place perfectly. Like puzzle pieces they could all fall back together and be the same group of kids from back then. Nothing had changed in their dynamic. They all had grown older, but that didn’t mean they had grown up. Even if all the details are hazy, the memories are all there.

It feels oddly familiar. Like this could be a sleepover at Bill’s or Stan’s when they were teenagers. They had shared beds before. They had shared a fucking hammock before. How different could this be?

“So, we’re also sharing the blanket, then?”, Richie asks with a wiggle of his brows as he moves into the room and closes the door behind himself.

Eddie, who had moved on to look for some pyjamas in his two(!) suitcases, looks up at Richie, seemingly startled by his voice. His face takes on a confused expression for all of two seconds, which Richie counts as a win, before he frowns again.

“What do you mean?”

Richie walks over to the bed, which only takes him two steps, because the room is seriously small, especially with all of Eddie’s stuff just standing right in the middle of it. “There’s only one bed, right?” He has reached the bed by now, slowly picking up the blanket on the bed. “There’s only one blanket,” he continues as he hold it up to show Eddie.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“Nope.”

Eddie groans and rolls his eyes at that. “This is the worst. Derry is the worst,” he says, overdramatically swinging his arms into the air and turning away from the bed again. This startles a laugh out of Richie, who drops the blanket onto the bed again.

“Fuck yeah, Derry really is the worst.”

At that even Eddie starts laughing. “Nothing’s changed then.” His face grows a little more serious. “Speaking of - I’m gonna go change, don’t you dare break anything while I’m gone, asshole.” He leaves the bedroom with a bunch of clothes in his hands, entering the en suite swiftly.

It takes a moment for Richie to stop looking at the spot where Eddie just stood. It still feels surreal to be here, to have seen him - and the other losers for that matter - again. To have them back. His heart stings a bit when he thinks of the other losers, being reminded of Stan and the reason he’s not with them.

(It’s a couple days later when they defeated Pennywise for real, when they have dragged Eddie out of the Neibolt house and they are all sitting at his hospital bed, laughing and cringing at one of Richie’s stupid jokes, it’s then, that they, Bill specifically, get a call from Patty to hear about Stan’s miraculous survival. It’s then that they know they will all be okay and that from that moment onwards, they’ll stick together, no matter what.)

In the time it takes Eddie to change into his pyjamas and do his “night routine” - _whatever that is supposed to mean_, but it involves his fanny packs (yes, it’s still two) - Richie has the audacity to remember he didn’t pack any clothes to sleep in. So he strips down to his underwear and his t-shirt and lies down on the bed, making sure to cover as much of it as he can possibly manage.

And then it _still_ takes Eddie about 20 more minutes.

“Honestly, I thought you’d died in there,” Richie says, lazy grin on his face, when Eddie opens the door to the en suite, stepping back into the room.

Eddie’s face immediately turns sour again. “Haha, very funny,” he says, his tone proving it’s anything but. “Are you going to move or do I have to lie on top of you?” He makes some hand gesture that is possibly supposed to make Richie move over, but it just distracts him more than anything.

His entire focus is on Eddie’s hands. How they move and how the moonlight still seems to illuminate them just right. They look delicate, with impossibly soft skin and Richie feels the need to hold them.

When they had arm wrestled in the restaurant - it feels like so long ago, but it’s only been a few hours - Richie had had Eddie’s hand in his own and he couldn’t help but notice how much smaller Eddie’s hands were compared to his. It almost made him blush then, but he had blamed it on the alcohol they had been drinking.

And now as well, Richie couldn’t help but notice how much smaller Eddie seemed compared to him. It feels like Richie had been taken back in time, to when they were younger and they had fit into the hammock together. It takes him a moment to realize that he wants to hold Eddie - hold on and not let go.

His thoughts are interrupted by Eddie flopping gracelessly on top of him, knocking the air out of his lungs. There is an elbow digging into his stomach painfully and somewhere there is a knee very close to his dick. If Eddie were to move right then, he might accidentally kick Richie in the balls.

“You didn’t answer,” Eddie huffs out on top of him. His face is squished into his chest, so his voice is slightly muffled, but clear enough that Richie can understand him. And then Eddie is laughing, his body shaking slightly on top of Richie. “This is so stupid, dude. We’ll never fit on here.”

And it’s so stupid, Richie just starts laughing as well. Because yeah, with the way they are lying right now, they will never get comfortable enough to sleep, but lying any other way might actually result in one of them falling out of bed in the middle of the night.

“Ok, wait, get off, I have an idea.” Without waiting for Eddie to comply, Richie shoves him off his chest. “We could probably fit if we lie on our sides.” Richie moves his body to face Eddie, lying on his side, a grin still lingering on his face.

Eddie is also facing Richie, still half lying on his stomach and half on his side. “Nope,” he says, popping the ‘p’, “I’m comfortable like this.” And then the fucker closes his eyes and imitates being asleep, snoring slightly.

The grin fades off Richie’s face. “Dude, you left the curtains open, I can’t sleep with that much light coming in,” he complains.

“Turn around then. I’m not getting up again, asshole.”

It takes some maneuvering, but Richie turns to face away from Eddie and the window. He closes his eyes, but can’t seem to fall asleep. After some time, he hears Eddie’s breathing slowing down and evening out.

Slowly he turns back around to look at Eddie’s relaxed face, half smushed into the pillow. The light bathes the scene in silvery blue, softening the image. Eddie’s lips are half-opened, soft breathes escaping. His lashes cast slight shadows where the light hits Eddie’s cheeks and even without his glasses, Richie can see how beautiful he is. His hair is tousled, sticking up in some places and being smoothed down by the pillow in others.

Richie has a sudden, overwhelming urge to kiss him.

It takes every single ounce of willpower Richie possesses to not either kiss him or lift his own hand and touch Eddie’s cheek or run his fingers through the dark hair, smoothing it down.

In the end, Richie falls asleep like that, lying on his side, facing Eddie, not daring to touch him for fear of waking him up.

It feels like it’s only been a minute since Richie has closed his eyes when he wakes up. The room is in complete darkness, the moonlight having vanished. Richie can hear soft rain splashing against the window.

His eyes have not yet adjusted to the darkness surrounding him, but he can feel a body pressed up against him, his own arm wrapped around the body. It takes him several moments until his sleep-addled brain remembers where he is and who he’s with.

His nose is pressed into soft, dark hair and his senses are clouded by the sweet scent coming from Eddie. The blanket that they had shared at the beginning of the night has been thrown to the foot of the bed, their bodies creating enough heat to keep them both warm, with the way they are pressed together this closely. Eddie’s back is pressed against his front, they are almost moulded together. There is a hand grasping his own tightly where his arm is thrown carelessly over Eddie’s waist and Eddie’s legs are tangled with his own.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep spooning Eddie, so they must have moved during the night. There is a slight second where Richie has an overly romantic thought where it is fate that lets them end up this way. Or maybe they have some form of force of attraction between them that won’t let them get away more than three inches. He quickly dismisses these thoughts.

It’s when he tries to move away from Eddie to grab the blanket again that he realizes that he can’t get away. Eddie has a vice like grip on him and Richie can’t move at all without risking that Eddie wakes up. But if he’s being honest, he doesn’t want to move away at all. This is what he always wanted when he was younger - what he has been craving and yearning for these past 27 years without even knowing it.

Richie closes his eyes to try to get back to sleep, because in this town, who knows what the next day is going to be like. He might have to fight the clown on his own. Or a childhood bully with the way this town works - some people just don’t move away. He might have time to talk to Eddie properly. Really get to know what Beverly and Bill and Ben and Mike have been up to. Mourn Stan.

It’s at that moment that he hears a small sigh escape Eddie’s lips, followed by a slight move of hips brushing against his. Immediately, his eyes fly open, staring comically at the back of Eddie’s head.

What he’s been craving and yearning for. Right.

As he’s staring, still pressed against Eddie’s back, Eddie moves again, just a slight twitch of his hips. His ass is dangerously close to Richie’s dick and one wrong move from either of them would lead to a very embarrassing incident.

Whatever Eddie is dreaming off in that moment, Richie just wants him to either wake up or let him go so that he can move to the safety of the other end of the bed. But if possible Eddie’s grip on Richie’s hand gets even stronger, his hips building up a rhythm of small circular movements.

Even though he knows that this is wrong and he should wake Eddie, Richie is frozen in place. Contrasting to him, his dick is interested in the proceedings, though, seeing as he is already half hard just from Eddie moving against him like that. It doesn’t help that there are several small sounds leaving Eddie’s lips with every movement.

He’s debating waking Eddie, maybe explaining the situation and then having a quiet wank in the en suite bathroom, when he hears Eddie mumbling. At first he can’t make out any real words between all the sighs and gasps, but then he hears something that makes his brain stop working completely.

“_Richie_,” slips out followed by a quiet moan.

There is a short pause where his brain shuts down, his dick rock hard in his underwear and he has to suppress a groan that wants to rip from his throat. It is almost painful.

Experimentally, Richie pushes his hips forward and meets Eddie in his movements. It doesn’t even take a second before Eddie immediately lets out another quiet moan of his name. It is so clear that Richie actually has to lean over his face to check if he is still sleeping.

Indeed, he is.

There’s a fuse burning out in his brain. With a slight growl, Richie detangles their legs and uses the grip around Eddie’s waist to change their position. He throws Eddie onto his back on the bed and slowly climbs on top of him.

The sudden motion rips Eddie out of whatever scenario he was dreaming of. His eyes open and immediately lock with Richie’s.

There is a small moment neither of them know what is happening and how to react to what has happened before. In the darkness of the room, Richie thinks Eddie might be blushing. Before he can even properly think about it, his hands are already cradling Eddie’s cheeks, which are slightly warmer than usual. If that is from embarrassment or arousal, Richie can’t tell.

The moment seems fragile, like anything that Richie might say now could break the spell and Eddie would throw him off and leave the room. But Richie has to say something, has to explain, has to ask.

“You said my name,” he whispers, disturbing the quiet of the night. It doesn’t break the spell. It only intensifies the suspense that seems to be crackling through the air in that moment. “You said my name, Eds,” he repeats for good measure, because saying it out loud makes it so much more real. Like a secret confession. A hint that whatever is happening is not one-sided.

“_Richie_.” Eddie looks up at him with dark eyes, half lidded. His lips are slightly opened. His hands are reaching out, touching his face, sliding into his hair. Richie has the urge to swipe his thumb across his lower lip because the face below him that he can barely see in the dark might be the hottest and most attractive thing he’ll ever witness.

Slowly, as if testing the waters, Richie leans down. His lips are only a few inches from Eddie’s when he halts in his movement. He can feel Eddie’s breath on his own face and he never wants to lose this feeling ever again.

It is Eddie who finally leans up and connects their lips in a tender kiss.

At first, it stays only lips sliding against lips. And if asked later, neither of the two could say who deepened the kiss in the end. Before long, there are tongues are involved, sliding against each other and battling for dominance.

Richie slowly lowers his body onto Eddie’s, straddling his thighs, balancing his weight almost entirely on his forearm lying next to Eddie’s head. In this position their hard cocks are almost touching, with only their clothes separating them.

It might have been hours, or it might have been ten minutes that they had been lying like this, kissing each other like their lives depended on it.

In the end, it is Richie who moves things forward. The kiss grows heavier, before it breaks for a moment when Richie sits up abruptly to tug off his shirt. Eddie beneath him is panting, his hands hanging in the air, having slipped out of Richie’s hair when he sat up. His eyes are half-lidded, his mouth hanging open, his lips visibly swollen. Richie can’t believe that he did that. To Eddie Kaspbrak. His childhood best friend and love of his life.

For a moment, the world seems to stop. For a moment, this all seems like it is far too perfect to be true and Richie half convinces himself that he is the one having the wet dream. In what universe would Richie get his happy, gay ending where he gets the guy and defeats the clown and all his friends survive.

But then, Eddie leans up, traces his hands up and down Richie’s chest and abdomen and removes his own shirt without saying anything. He is about to lean in for another kiss, when Richie’s hands fall onto his stomach and Richie stiffens.

There, underneath Richie’s fingers, are defined abs and some hair leading to the waistband of his pyjama bottoms. For a second time that night, Richie’s brain short circuits. “You can’t be for real,” he breathes out, stunned, “We are almost forty, dude, and you are absolutely ripped. Are you kidding me? What the fuck?”

Eddie lets out a startled laugh. His hands find their way back into Richie’s hair and he pulls Richie impossibly closer, laughing in his ear. “Did you seriously just ‘dude’ me, when you were so close to touching my cock ten minutes ago?”

In a way the whole situation is just purely ridiculous. But looking at it another way, Eddie had just mentioned his cock and Richie is damned if he lets his chance with Eddie pass. “Just forget I said anything,” he says as he playfully shoves Eddie back onto the pillows, attaching his lips to Eddie’s neck, sucking and biting the slightly salty skin there.

“No seriously, will you get your hand on my cock tonight or do I have to jack off in the bathroom later?” Eddie laughs, pulling Richie even closer.

“I’m not the one still wearing pyjama pants.”

“Yeah, but boxers, so lose them and I might lose mine.”

Instead of doing what Eddie wanted, Richie keeps pressing small, open-mouthed kisses to his skin. Slowly, he moves from Eddie’s neck down, licking over his collarbone and playing with his nipple as his hands move over Eddie’s abs.

Eddie lets out a small moan as Richie’s tongue makes contact with his skin. “Richie, please, do something.”

He feels a small huff of air on his skin at that. Richie’s lips leave his skin for a moment as Richie’s eyes search for something on his face. He seems to find whatever he is looking for because his mouth forms into a lazy grin. “You are so very pretty when you beg.”

A groan rips out of Eddie’s throat at that, his hips bucking up into Richie’s. “Come on, please, Richie.”

There are small kisses being pressed to his abs at that, making him let out a string of breathless moans. Suddenly there are Richie’s hands on the waistband of his pyjama bottoms again. “Lift up,” is being spoken into the silence between Eddie’s moans. Without any further hesitation, Eddie lifts his hips and Richie pulls both his pyjama bottoms and his boxers down his legs.

Eddie’s hard cock springs free, standing proudly. Eddie chances a look at Richie who looks like he is going to drool all over the place. And when did Richie take off his boxers? At the sight of Richie’s cock also being on display, Eddie has to take a deep breath.

“Is it okay if I…?”, Richie trails off, waving his hand enthusiastically at Eddie’s dick. With the same enthusiasm Eddie nods his head, lifting his eyes to look towards the ceiling, silently praying that he lasts longer than five minutes. Whatever it is Richie wants to do, Eddie won’t stop him now.

It takes a couple of seconds before there is a hand sliding up and down on his aching cock. But once Richie is touching him, Eddie’s mind is completely blank except for the stream of _Richie Richie Richie_. He lets out some noises he later wouldn’t want to repeat. And Richie, though he is only touching Eddie, is moaning as well.

Richie leans up again, catching Eddie’s lips in a surprisingly gentle, yet heated kiss. He keeps his hand busy, jerking off Eddie, flicking his wrist and letting his thumb slide over the top, collecting the pre-cum. It is one of the hottest moments of his life, if not the hottest.

He keeps watching Eddie’s face as he does different things, trying to figure out what he likes and what he doesn’t. He is tempted more than once to put his mouth where his hand is, but he decides against it, not wanting to miss a single moment of Eddie’s facial expressions.

“You are so hot, Eds. I can’t believe this is happening, can’t believe you let me touch you like this.” Richie says, leaning down to nose at Eddie’s neck. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

Eddie lets out a small whimper at Richie’s words.

“When I saw you in that restaurant, it all came back to me. I’ve been in love with you for so long. I can’t believe it took us 27 years and a fucking killer clown to finally get to this point.”

“‘_Chie_\- please.”

Richie moves his hand even quicker, lightly squeezing Eddie’s cock between his fingers. “Baby,” he breathes out, “come for me, Eddie.”

The words leave a burning in Eddie’s stomach that can’t be held off. His back arches off the bed and for a second, he thinks he is going to black out, seeing stars as his orgasm washes over him. His cum spurts out in pearly ropes, coating Richie’s hand as well as Eddie’s own stomach and chest.

Richie strokes him through it until he is completely done and falling back onto the sheets. There is a slight pause as Richie looks at Eddie’s blissed out face. A haze seems to settle over Eddie’s eyes for a moment and his breath catches in his throat which he lets out in a final moan.

When Eddie comes back to himself, he feels a tongue swiping over his chest. Too overwhelmed by his orgasm he mumbles a quiet “What are you doing?” in Richie’s direction.

With a shit-eating grin, Richie lifts his head. “Cleaning you up, babe.” There is some cum on his bottom lip, that Eddie desperately wants to swipe off with his thumb. Once he can move his limbs again, of course.

“That’s disgusting,” Eddie whispers as Richie licks his own hand, making a show out of cleaning every finger individually. But they are both grinning. With a start Eddie realizes that he hadn’t touched Richie at all.

He tries sitting up, but Richie is still on top of him. So Eddie moves his hand in a gesture kind of directing it at Richie’s dick. “Do you want me to…?”, he trails off kind of awkwardly.

Richie has the audacity to look sheepish. “You don’t need to, I already…” He waves his hand as if that would finish his sentence for him. But Eddie understands.

Slowly, Richie gets off of Eddie, lying down beside him, kissing his neck again. Eddie can’t help but snuggle into Richie’s side. “Didn’t know you were the type to cuddle,” he says. Richie just shrugs.

“Just for you, baby,” he says. He tries to go for a silly voice, like he did when they were young, but he fails a little and it comes out too sincere. Not like the joke he intended.

“Thank you.”

It doesn’t take long for them to fall back asleep. And if Richie wakes Eddie the next morning with slow kisses, then that is no one’s business but their own.

And if Richie insists to carry Eddie out of Neibolt and actually does it, saving Eddie by doing so, then it is also only their business.

And if they get married and adopt a pomeranian that they can annoy Stan with when they visit him, well, then it’s also only their business.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please leave some comments and kudos!
> 
> If you want, you can scream at me on Twitter @beepbeepmadds or Tumblr @pansexual-space-princess


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